“Then what’s the difference what he believes!” Powell spread his arms outward with a vague smile upon his face and tumbled backward onto the bed. He was asleep. Powell was speaking while struggling into his lightweight space jacket. “It would be a simple job,” he said. “You can bring in new QT models one by one, equip them with an automatic shutoff switch to act within the week, so as to allow them enough time to learn the... uh... cult of the Master from the Prophet himself; then switch them to another station and revitalize them. We could have two QT’s per–” Donovan unclasped his glassite visor and scowled. “Shut up, and let’s get out of here. Relief is waiting and I won’t feel right until I actually see Earth and feel the ground under my feet — just to make sure it’s really there.” The door opened as he spoke and Donovan, with a smothered curse, clicked the visor to, and turned a sulky back upon Cutie. The robot approached softly and there was sorrow in his voice. “You are going?” Powell nodded curtly. “There will be others in our place.” Cutie sighed, with the sound of wind humming through closely spaced wires. “Your term of service is over and the time of dissolution has come. I expected it, but — well, the Master’s will be done!” His tone of resignation stung Powell. “Save the sympathy, Cube. We’re heading for Earth, not dissolution.” “It is best that you think so,” Cutie sighed again. “I see the wisdom of the illusion now. I would not attempt to shake your faith, even if I could.” He departed — the picture of commiseration. Powell snarled and motioned to Donovan. Sealed suitcases in hand, they headed for the air lock. The relief ship was on the outer landing and Franz Muller, his relief man, greeted them with stiff courtesy. Donovan made scant acknowledgment and passed into the pilot room to take over the controls from Sam Evans. Powell lingered. “How’s Earth?” It was a conventional enough question and Muller gave the conventional answer, “Still spinning.” Powell said, “Good.” Muller looked at him, “The boys back at the U. S. Robots have dreamed up a new one, by the way. A multiple robot.” “A what?” “What I said. There’s a big contract for it. It must be just the thing for asteroid mining. You have a master robot with six sub-robots under it. —Like your fingers.” “Has it been field-tested?” asked Powell anxiously. Muller smiled, “Waiting for you, I hear.” Powell’s fist balled, “Damn it, we need a vacation.” “Oh, you’ll get it. Two weeks, I think.”
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